He shakes his head. “I came alone.”
“You’re enough. Fight this battle with me. And if we survive… I’ll decide.”
He nods, his eyes softening. “Very well.”
Then, in a smooth motion, he pulls me on top of him, my legs straddling his hips, his length hardening beneath me as his hands skim the bare skin of my back. His fingers tangle in my hair as he gazes up at me, his voice a husky whisper. “If this isto be our last night, wife… then please, show me your sweet pity once more.”
Chapter 34
When Daed and I emerge at dawn, Zyphoro waits for us on the rope bridge.
Or, more accurately, she waits for Daedalus.
I feel like an ant amongst giants as their gazes lock, sizing each other up with an intensity so thick you could choke on it. The air hums with tension, the weight of so many secrets and lies and heartbreaks bearing down on their shoulders.
“Sister,” Daed says, smoke curling ominously between his fingers. “It has been a long time.”
Zyphoro’s lips twist into a smirk, and with a flick of her wrist, a dagger shrouded in shadow manifests in her hand. She points it straight at him, her eyes gleaming. “Longer for me, brother.”
They stalk towards each other, these sleek predators, almost identical, even their halved moonstone necklaces seeming to sway in time around their necks. As Zyphoro conjures a second dagger, the smoke swirling around it like tendrils of darkness, Daed extends his hand, summoning Death Singer from the void, the moonstone in its hilt glinting, its silver blade shimmering in the morning light.
I don’t know what to do. I’m frozen, useless—what can an ant possibly hope to stop between these two forces of nature? My heart pounds in my chest, expecting the inevitable screech of their weapons colliding, bracing for the violence that is sure to follow.
But when they meet in the center of the bridge, instead of the clash of steel, they collapse into each other. Their weapons vanish as they grab with a fierceness that feels like both an embrace and a battle, gripping as if to hold on to something they’ve both lost.
“Zyphoro,” Daed murmurs, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”
Zyphoro’s face remains hard for a beat longer, but then the sharp edge of her fury dulls when she buries her face in her brother’s shoulder. “You should be,” she mutters. “But you’re here now.” She pulls back slightly, her expression shifting into something more playful. “With the two of us, these humans might just win this war… against other humans.” Her brow furrows, confusion slipping into her voice. “Have I been absent so long that Fae fight human wars now?”
Daed shakes his head, his voice resigned. “No. This is recent.”
It’s impossible to look at them without seeing the startling similarities—not just in the way their dark hair curls in the same places or how their eyes churn with the same storm, but in the power they carry, the way they command those around them. Their very presence is overwhelming. I wonder, fleetingly, what a battle between them would look like—whether it would end in an instant with both of them destroyed or rage on for a thousand years.
Zyphoro’s gaze shifts to me over Daed’s shoulder. “I’ve met your wife,” she says. “It seems… complicated.”
“You have no idea,” he replies, a small smirk tugging at his lips, but it fades quickly when Zyphoro’s expression turns cold again.
“You must control yourself, brother,” she warns, her voice dropping low. “If you are to survive this.”
He looks at her, his brow furrowed. “I don’t understand…”
“Gygarth sits within you, Daedalus, like a man sits in a chair. I see him in your eyes, staring back at me.” Her voice tightens. “He hungers. Healwayshungers. But now that I am free, I will make him starve.” She steps closer, her presence looming like a dark shadow over him. “Your complicated human wife is the one who freed me. Not a Fae, not a Mordorin, not you. Her. And because of that, I will not allow her to become meat for the beast, like our mother.”
For the first time, I see the cracks in Daed’s armor, his walls faltering under the weight of her words.
“If I sense, for even a moment, that you’ve lost control,” Zyphoro continues, her voice sharp, “I will free you from your curse. Permanently. Do you understand me now?”
Daed doesn’t flinch. His reply is steady, without fear or resistance, only calm acceptance. “Yes, Zyphoro. I understand.”
The village stirs, the cold air biting at our skin as we brace for what’s to come. The soft shuffle of feet and hushed whispers fills the morning, no one daring to speak above a whisper. An unsettling tension hangs in the air, pressing down on my chest and making it hard to breathe.
Elders and children are hidden away, their faces pale and eyes wide with fear as they are led into the underground shelter. They’re instructed to remain silent, no matter what sounds echofrom above, no matter the chaos unfolding outside. It feels cruel, forcing them into silence while the world collapses around them. But it’s necessary; the den will protect them, and we will safeguard the den.
As I secure the entrance, I glance at the warriors preparing. Their faces are grim but determined. I spot Arax off to the side, his hands steady as he adjusts Solena’s grip on her sword, showing her how to hold it properly, his voice low and instructive.
Zyphoro, perched silently on a tree branch above them, watches with sharp eyes. Her dagger spins in her hand, waiting for the hunt to begin, her focus unshakable.
Then I feel Daed's presence long before I see him, like a cool shadow falling over me, consuming and inescapable. He crosses the distance between us in his leathers, embodying the dark with every movement, every look, every breath. When he reaches me he takes my hand, curling his around it, the runes tattooed on his knuckles pulsing.
